


The Beginning's End

by Ruusverd



Series: Echoes of the Fall AU [33]
Category: Echoes of the Fall - Adrian Tchaikovsky, Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:41:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26396581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruusverd/pseuds/Ruusverd
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Echoes of the Fall AU [33]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1863010
Comments: 8
Kudos: 19





	The Beginning's End

In the Crown of the World there was a village that was once empty, but now housed a strange tribe made up of many peoples. They welcomed hunters and hearth-keepers of all shapes, people who were lost and without a place to go. Some who came stayed forever, others stayed only a short time before moving on, but all were welcomed. Despite its relatively small size, the fact that this tribe existed made all the difference to those who sought shelter there.

In this village that was once empty sat a very old woman with faded rainbow scales painted across her face, her curly gray hair tucked under a scarf that was wrapped around her head. One hand rested on the back of a large white wolf that lay sleeping beside her.

“How is he?” asked the woman who was their daughter, sitting on the wolf’s other side and petting his ruff.

The old woman shook her head. “Old injuries and his recent illness are catching up with him. Only the wolf’s strength is keeping him here now.”

“Has he Stepped back at all today?”

“Briefly. He’s so tired, but it’s too much of a risk for him to fall asleep in a human shape.” She stroked the wolf’s head and smiled when he sighed and pushed into her hand without fully waking up. “He would have gone to the forest long since, if he’d had only himself to consider. It’s not the Wolf way to linger like this. He’s waiting for me, I think.”

The daughter’s face twisted with grief. “It’s not fair, that I lose you both at the same time.”

“These things are different for the Snake’s children,” the old woman said, “and we… he and I made plans long ago, what we would do when the time came. Mostly for his peace of mind, but I’m glad now that we did. I’ve always trusted that things would go as they should, but Geralt worries about it. I think it’s harder for a child of the Wolf to trust that fate will be kind than it is for one who walks the Serpent’s back.”

“What are you saying?”

She pursed her lips. “We agreed not to tell anyone the particulars, but I will tell you that we’ve had many, many years to prepare for this day, and if all goes well perhaps we won’t be lost to you entirely.”

“How… how long before you go?”

“Not long. You had better prepare the tribe to see us off.”

The daughter nodded, but didn’t move to leave. The three of them sat in silence for a long time.

* * *

In the Crown of the World there was a village that was once empty, but now housed a strange tribe made up of many peoples. In front of the chief’s longhouse the whole tribe had gathered. Most of the totems of the north, many of the Plains, and even a few from the River were represented among those who had come to witness the passing of their former chief and his mate.

They emerged from the longhouse, the old man supported on each side by his mate and his daughter. They looked out over the assembled crowd for a moment, and then the man Stepped to the white wolf.The crowd silently parted to form a path from the longhouse mound to the edge of the village. Slowly, the woman and the Wolf walked side by side to the last longhouse, then the woman Stepped to the snake and settled in her customary place draped around the wolf’s shoulders. Their daughter stood by the longhouse door and watched them go, her eyes full of worry and anticipated grief.

Together the two of them made their way down a well-worn path to the banks of a stream that flowed beside a small hill, a short distance from the village they’d left behind. They stopped by a large pile of tumbled rocks, Stepping back and embracing each other. The woman pulled back reluctantly, cupping his sunken face in her wrinkled hands. "Follow me, and I'll see you soon," she promised. The man smiled and nodded, and kissed her once more before letting go. The woman shrunk to a small, slender snake and slithered her way into a gap in the rocks.

The man became a wolf once more, and then, more slowly, he became a snake and followed her into the earth where the Serpent was spiraling upwards to meet them.

* * *

Geralt woke up with a gasp, trying to remember where he was and what had happened. He felt strange, like he’d barely closed his eyes and like he’d slept for days all at the same time. His body felt different, and not only because he was free of pain for the first time in what seemed like years. He vaguely remembered dreaming about Yennefer and a moving road paved with rainbow-colored scales, but even as he tried to focus on the details the dream was slipping away from him.

He brought his hand up to rub at his face and froze, staring. Slowly he lifted his other hand and turned them over, examining them closely. They were young hands, free of scars and with the sand-brown skin of a northerner. He ran his tongue over his teeth experimentally and could feel that they were fully human. He'd forgotten what human teeth felt like. He pulled a lock of hair over his shoulder and saw that it was a dark reddish brown.

He heard a laugh and turned his head to see a young girl who looked to be perhaps twelve or thirteen years old sitting next to him, looking at her own hands and then running them over her face. She had dark, curly hair and bright, colorful snake scales painted across her cheeks and forehead. Their eyes met, and though her face wasn’t quite the same he knew at once who she was. "Yennefer!" he said, pushing himself up to sit cross-legged and marveling at how easily he could move. “It worked!”

"I told you everything would be fine. You look different with dark hair, but at least your eyes are the same," she told him, sounding pleased. "A wolf's gold and a serpent’s pupils. I’m glad they didn’t change. I thought they might, and I always loved your eyes."

“You look like your own granddaughter,” he told her. “Not exactly the same, but similar.” He thought that the man he'd been a short time ago would have told Yennefer she was still the most beautiful woman in the world, but to the boy he now was she simply looked like she was balanced on that awkward edge between childhood and adolescence. He imagined he looked much the same, not quite a boy but not yet a young man. He loved her as strongly as ever, loved her so much it hurt, but in this new life he wasn't yet ready to think of her as his mate. Those thoughts could wait until they were older again.

He felt old and young at the same time, as though not just his body but his mind had been rejuvenated. He remembered the man he had been, but some of the memories were blunted and felt a bit distant, as if the weight and grief of them had been shed along with their old skins.He suspected parts of his early life were gone entirely, but he didn’t mourn the loss. He remembered the important things. He remembered that he loved Yennefer, though for now that love took a different form. He remembered their daughter Ciri and the home they'd built together.

“Do you still have your wolf soul?” she asked him, pulling him out of his thoughts.

Geralt reached inside himself, and found his wolf just where it had always been, though it had changed along with the rest of him. He smiled in relief. “Yes, it’s still there.” Another thought struck him and he reached around to touch the skin of his back, and found only smooth, uninterrupted skin. The double rows of savage scars from the rite of Iron were gone.

“Do you think you’ll still be able to Step with iron?” Yennefer asked, seeing the motion and guessing what he’d been checking for.

“I don’t know. I think I will; I always thought the ability had more to do with the mind than the body, and I still have my own mind. I suppose I’ll have to try it and see.” He considered it a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t think I care much either way.”

“We’ll have plenty of time to find out.” Yennefer got to her feet and took his hand in hers, tugging at him to get up. "Come on," she said, eyes shining with excitement, "Let’s go home, Ciri's waiting for us!"

* * *

In the Crown of the World, in a village that was once empty and now houses a strange tribe of many peoples, a young girl with dark, curly hair tucked under a scarf runs up a well-worn path between the longhouses. A half-grown wolf with a tawny brown coat runs in circles around her, wagging his tail and grinning. The woman who is still their daughter waits by the longhouse door and welcomes them home with open arms.

  
  



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